Gunshot
by where's-waldo-15
Summary: ...then Shawn remembered what had happened – the bullet fired from the great-aunt's rifle, toward... "Oh, my god." He thought. "Was I…shot in the head?" Shawn is shot in the head, but he survives. And then weird things start to happen...don't want to reveal too much in the summary - R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Alright…weird little idea that popped into my head. I don't know if anyone has ever written something like this before, so not to worry about plagiarizing or anything like that.**

**And just an FYI, there will be NO character death, no matter ****_what_**** it might look like through the fic. I just don't like that kind of stuff…it's too sad. :(**

**So, now that that's out of the way…enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Shawn moved stealthily through the docks, a mere shadow in the night. All was silent, as though the world was holding its breath. The full moon shone down on the young man as he moved with unusual catlike grace. It was one of those moments like in the movies where something was about to happen – something huge…life changing. But Shawn didn't know that.

It was supposed to be a simple job, really. The Carson family was a drug ring. Everyone in the family was involved – from grandpas to cousins to brothers and sisters. The leader was the oldest – his name was Gregor. He was ninety-two, but he had the stamina and strength of someone in their thirties. The youngest was twelve, a girl named Emmaline. There were almost eighty people in all, and every single one of them was dangerous and ruthless.

Of course, Chief Vick had told Shawn to wait for backup before he dove in, but Shawn ignored her order, taking Gus with him to the docks.

It wasn't that it was rebellion that caused him to go ahead of them, but he had been watching them for a good half hour before he had called the police. He had the evidence he needed in his inside jacket pocket, and they were starting to leave via yacht to go across the Pacific.

Actually, he didn't know where they were going, but he had overheard one of the uncles shout to his brother that they would leave at two-thirty.

It was two twenty-five now.

He had split off with Gus a few minutes before – Gus was going to provide a distraction so that Shawn could get on the yacht and disable the engine somehow to stall before police got there. They were still ten minutes away, and he needed to do _something_. He just needed to buy _five _minutes.

Shawn peered around the corner, seeing the yacht up ahead. Glancing around, he couldn't see Gus. He didn't know where he was. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen him in a while. He didn't know what he was going to do as a distraction, but any moment would've been good now.

Unfortunately, at that moment, a gaggle of cousins walked around the corner of the stacks behind Shawn. Without hesitation, they pulled out their guns, aiming them at the fake psychic.

Shawn heard guns cocking behind him, and in that moment, Shawn's instincts kicked in. With a speed that rivaled light, he grabbed the gun – his dad's gun – tucked into the waistband at his back and whirled around to face the small group of Carsons.

Shots were fired at rapid pace, and Shawn knew he was losing this battle. There were seven guys –nope, make that five guys and two girls – firing at him, and he was running out of clips from his pocket. He ducked in between a couple of other stacks, out of line of the bullets, and reached into his pocket to grab another clip. It was his last one.

So, deciding that it was time to run, he darted around another corner, just as the cousins cleared the corner behind him. A bullet whizzed past his ear, and he thought he could hear it whistling as it passed.

_Cool, _he was able to think before he turned down another row. Bullets followed at his feet, sending up dirt behind him as he ran. He panted for breath and turned around the corner for an instant to fire a couple of shots at his pursuers. He hit one in the leg.

And the whole time, the moon shone innocently down.

Shawn whirled and ran down the row. _This wasn't supposed to happen this way, _he thought, panting for breath as he went. _Shouldn't the police be here by now? It __**has **__to have been ten minutes already!_

Another shot rang through the air, but this time, it was different. Shawn knew it. He didn't know how he knew it, but some gut instinct told him to duck.

It was amazing how honed his skills were in that moment as he ducked. Instead of seeing the blur he had been before as he ran, his eyes knew that this moment was important, and they were able to focus enough to see everything.

So when he turned his head right, he saw that, instead of the projectile whizzing past him as it had last time, one of the great-aunts aiming the rifle at him. But then his attention was distracted when he saw the actual _bullet_ – the bullet coming toward…

_Oh, god._

Then suddenly, the gunshots stopped. Time stopped. Shawn heard an odd wind-like sound in his ears as the ground rushed up to say _bonjour._ He seemed to fall in amazingly slow motion, and he crashed to the ground, though he was surprised that he felt no pain. He felt a tugging sort of sensation through his whole body, and he seemed to be unable to blink. He watched as a couple of cousins came over to him, and one crouched down and touched his neck, as though checking for a pulse.

"C'mon," the other cousin said gruffly, staring down at the fake psychic with distaste. "We don't have time to dispose of the body. The cops could be here any second, and we need to leave before dear old Gramps takes off without us."

The other cousin rolled his eyes and stood up. "Yeah, yeah," he huffed. "I'm comin'."

Even as they walked away, Shawn was unable to move – unable to stop them. He seemed to be frozen in place, and he suddenly felt very, very, tired…but he couldn't go to sleep. Because he couldn't close his eyes. It was like they were kept open by cement. He suddenly wondered why he was on the ground…what had happened, again?

He could still hear that odd wind-like sound in his ears, but then he became aware of someone gasping from several feet away. And he could feel the familiarity washing over him – whoever had gasped was a friend.

"Oh, my god! Shawn!"

_Gus._

Shawn wanted to smile at his friend as he heard footfalls rushing closer, and suddenly Gus was in front of him. He could only see his shoes, as he was unable to move his eyes, but he knew. This was Gus. Gus could help him – he would help him move again, and then they would nail the bastards that had somehow paralyzed him.

"Shawn…"

Then Shawn wanted to frown, because Gus sounded heartbroken, ready to cry. He saw Gus drop to his knees, and Gus took hold of Shawn's hand, the hand that still held the gun, though it was limp in his hold now.

Then abruptly, Shawn was distracted, because he felt his chest constricting, and he found himself unable to breathe. That unbearable tightness – it hurt like hell.

And then suddenly he was distracted again by something warm, wet, and red dripping down from his eyebrow and beginning to pool at the crevice beside the top of his nose.

_Is that…blood? _He wondered, even as his lungs seemed to seize and convulse. Even in this unbearable pain, unable to breathe, he was worried – about Gus. Was Gus bleeding? Why was Gus worried about _him_, then?

And then Shawn remembered what had happened – the bullet fired from the great-aunt's rifle, toward...

_Oh, my god. _He thought. _Was I…shot in the head?_

* * *

**Okay, for all of you worrying out there…Shawn's not going to die. Just thought I should reinforce that. I told you there would be no character death, and I'm going to stick to that. You're welcome, and sorry – depending on who you are. And yeah, this is a super weird story, but hey…that's my specialty. :)**

**There will definitely be answers in the next chapter, so not to worry. Please review! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Shawn needed to breathe. He could feel his lungs closing, constricting and expanding so fast that it left no time to get even a little bit of oxygen. He wanted to move, but he couldn't. He still felt that persistent tugging through his body, but he pushed that to the back of his mind as he tried so hard to blink, to twitch, to stand, to breathe - _anything_.

But while he was sure he hadn't breathed for at least three or four minutes, and he certainly felt lightheaded, he wasn't passing out. He felt dizzy, and he could still hear that echoing, rushing sound like white water, and he still felt the agonizing pain in his chest due to no oxygen, but why hadn't he passed out yet? He wanted to pass out - so badly. He wanted to wipe away the blood pooling near his eye and dripping to the ground, but for the life of him he _couldn't move_.

Then, just when he thought he couldn't be more miserable, the noise increased in his ears and a pain began to flare up in his head, behind his eyes. He could feel the steady _thrum thrum _at a spot on his forehead, increasing steadily in sound. Both sounds increased, and then bugs and birds began to join in, making his head pound that much harder. His chest closed even more, if possible, and the tugging over his body changed to _jerking_. He wanted to scream, to gasp for breath, to run in circles, to take a goddamn _blink_, but he couldn't. All coherent thought left as it felt like his eardrums exploded and a fiery inferno erupted over his entire being.

And then, suddenly, it stopped.

* * *

Gus stared at Shawn in shock, at the gaping bullet wound on his forehead. Shawn's mouth hung slack, his eyes wide open. The stream of blood from the bullet wound dripped down onto Shawn's nose, and then to the ground. The steady stream of blood flowed to the ground, pooling around his head. Gus didn't even feel nauseous at the sight of blood - this was his best friend.

_There's no way, _Gus thought, still not fully comprehending the fact he'd been staring at for almost five minutes now. His best friend, practically since birth, was now growing cold in death as the killers got away. He couldn't bring himself to care about them. Shawn was gone. What was he going to do? How could he go on? How could he tell Henry?

He stared into Shawn's eyes forlornly. They were growing empty with every passing moment. He reached out to close Shawn's eyes for him.

...And then jerked back, startled as Shawn bolted up with a gasp. Gus stumbled back, falling to the ground as Shawn flailed his arms in a way that reminded him of someone saved from drowning at the last moment. He swiped at his forehead and his eyes to clear the blood even as he began to cough violently.

"Shawn!" Gus finally exclaimed as he went quickly over to Shawn's side. "You're alive!"

Shawn finished coughing and said a little hoarsely, "Guess so." He hacked again, spitting out blood.

Gus found himself having no idea what to do. No one survived a bullet to the head, and yet somehow Shawn had. And he seemed just fine, too, except for the little bit of blood he'd spit out, though that was probably just whatever had accumulated from the pool of it at his head.

Shawn swiped at the blood on his face again, trying to clear it. He really only succeeded in smearing it into his hair.

"How did this happen?" Gus asked after getting over his initial shock.

Shawn shook his head, giving up on clearing the blood. "I don't know," he said, looking down at his hands in contemplation. He looked up at Gus excitedly. "It's _totally _cool, though! I'm like Jesus! - risen from the dead!"

Gus looked at him. "I do _not _want to hear you comparing yourself to _Jesus_. It's like...like _sacrilige_."

Shawn rose to his feet, swiping his hands on his jeans. "Gus, don't be an incorrigible pineapple smoothie with a side of Halloween apples."

"That made no sense, Shawn."

"What I'm trying to say, Gus, is that pineapple smoothies do _not _go well with a side of Halloween apples. Believe me, I've tried, but it is absolutely disgusting. Halloween apples only belong in pies. When they're with pineapple smoothies, it just leaves a funny taste in your mouth afterwards, and besides - "

"Shawn!" Gus yelled, exasperated.

"Look, Gus," Shawn said as though he was speaking to a child, "I was just shot in the head, and I'm _still alive_! Don't you understand the enormity of this? How am I alive, _talking _to you right now? I should be _dead_, Gus!"

Gus shook his head slowly and gulped. "I don't know, Shawn. We should get to a doctor, and he can see if - "

Shawn grabbed his best friend's arm, stopping him. "No, Gus!"

Gus stared at Shawn, confused. "But, Shawn, that bullet is still in your brain. You could have brain damage, and we don't know - "

"You're right. We _don't _know. We don't know why I'm alive, and neither will the doctors. They'll do tests, and I'll get on TV and newspapers as the miracle of the millionth."

"You mean millenia."

"I've heard it both ways."

"No, you haven't."

"My point, Gus, is that if I get that fame, I can't solve cases for the police anymore."

"Why not?"

"_Because_! People will recognize me and I wouldn't be able to get _anything _done! And if _that _doesn't convince you, this drug family could recognize me and come back to kill me so I don't tell anyone - and they would make _sure _I was dead before they left."

As he was speaking, the sound of sirens approached quickly, getting louder with every second.

"We have to go, Gus," Shawn urged. "No one can know about this."

After a moment, Gus nodded. "Come on," he said. "Let's go."

* * *

Lassiter and O'Hara walked around the stacks, looking to see if any of the drug people left any clues behind to where they were going. They hadn't found anything yet, and they'd been looking for a good twenty minutes now. They hadn't found Shawn and Gus, either, when they'd been expecting the two of them to be at the front lines, probably disobeying orders and trying to stall. But when they'd arrived, the yacht had been gone and Shawn and Gus were no where to be seen.

Juliet worried that maybe they'd been kidnapped in their attempts at stalling, but Lassiter assured her that they would've just killed the two of them and left them there. That did nothing to ease her worries, and that was really why _she _was looking in the stacks - she was looking for her friends.

So lost in her thoughts was she that she almost didn't notice the fairly large pool of blood until she was almost stepping on it. She stared at the blood for a moment, and then looked up at Lassiter, apprehension in her eyes.

"We'll get it tested - see who's it is," Lassiter said without skipping a beat, and squatted down so he could take a sample.

Juliet nodded, taking a slightly shaky breath. "I'm going to call Shawn," she decided, pulling out her cell phone.

A minute later, she was listening to his voicemail; _"Hi, you've reached Shawn Spencer. I knew you would call, but I am either in the middle of a reading right now or getting smoothies with Gus, so please leave your number so I can call you back."_

"Shawn," Juliet said urgently, unable to keep a note of worry out of her voice. "Where are you? You were supposed to be here. Call me back."

She hung up, thinking, _Please let him be okay..._

* * *

**So...does anyone have any guesses to why Shawn lived? And yes, the blood that Lassiter and Juliet found ****_is _****Shawn's. ****_That's _****going to raise some questions...*evil laugh* Please review! ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

Henry examined Shawn's forehead thoughtfully. He held Shawn's chin in one hand, turning his head with it, and then touched the spot where Shawn had told him he'd been shot. He frowned and let go of Shawn.

"Shawn, I don't know what stunt you're trying to pull, but you're _fine_. But I know _you _already knew that. These jokes are really getting old, though. You have to _stop _being a child and _grow up_."

Shawn shook his head. "I'm not joking!" he protested. "I was shot at two-thirty this morning by one of the great-aunts in the Carson gang before they left on their yacht, and I have _no _idea how I'm still alive right now! Gus saw the blood – _he_ thought I was dead, too!"

"It's true, Mr. Spencer," Gus chimed in. "It got all over by his head and in his hair. He cleaned up before he came over here."

"And how often do I get up before noon?" Shawn argued. "The fact that I'm here at five-thirty in the morning has to tell you _something_."

Henry shrugged. "You weren't shot, Shawn – _especially _not in the head. You'd be dead right now."

"That's what I'm trying to _tell _you!" Shawn exclaimed. "I was shot above my right eyebrow, and I'm not dead now. How is – "

Suddenly Shawn stopped, his face whitening in an instant. He grasped at his head and squeezed his eyes shut as though in pain. He let out a pained groan as his knees weakened, but then he regained his balance – just barely – instead bending over at the waist.

"Gus," he panted, still in obvious pain. Gus stepped forward and laid a hand on Shawn's shoulder.

"I'm right here, Shawn," he said concernedly. "What's wrong?"

Shawn didn't seem to have heard him. "No, Gus! I told you to stay back!"

Gus stepped back, putting up his hands as though in surrender. "Sorry!" he defended himself. "But _you _were the one who – "

Shawn continued as though Gus hadn't spoken. "No no no _no_! You aren't the one who will come back! You can't! Why didn't you just do what I _told _you to?"

Then abruptly, Shawn stopped, standing back up, and as though nothing had happened, continued defending himself to his dad, right down to the word.

" – that even _possible_?! Don't you think _I'm_ freaked out about this?!"

"Shawn," Henry said slowly, confusedly. "What was that?"

Shawn looked confused. "What do you mean, 'what was that'? You don't believe me, but I _was _shot. Gus _saw_ it."

Henry and Gus glanced at each other, and Gus said, "I think he was talking about how you just keeled over with obviously a massive migraine and started saying things that made _no _sense to anyone."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "And _I'm _the crazy one? Seriously, stop kidding around. This is _serious_."

Gus glanced at Henry again, and then back at Shawn. Deciding not to press the issue, he said, "Well, your dad isn't going to believe us. You're fine – let's go now. Lassie and Juliet will probably be wondering why you're not there."

Shawn sighed. "Fine," he huffed, and then looked at his dad. "But I _will _convince you. I know I've kidded before, but this time I'm serious. You'll know soon."

* * *

**Okay…so I had planned on making this chapter longer like the previous two, but I have a writer's block right now, and this is a good enough ending for the chapter, 'cause I don't want you guys to wait TOO long between each chapter…reviews are greatly appreciated! **

**And I would like some advice on how to continue – I know pretty much what I want to happen, but it's the transitions in between that I struggle with…so…help, please? :)**


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